Cross Fire (Alex Cross 17)

“These things don’t run on a fixed schedule,” Denny said. “You need to get that through your head.”

Zachary ignored the tone. He was like Spock, this guy, the way he never showed emotion. “Any issues?” he asked. “Anything I need to know about?”

“None,” Denny said. “I don’t see any reason not to proceed to the next phase.”

“What about your shooter?”

“Mitch? You tell me, partner. You’re the ones who vetted him.”

“How is he in the field, Denny?” Zachary pressed.

“Exactly the ringer I thought he’d be. As far as he’s concerned, this is the Mitch and Denny Show, nothing else. I’ve got him completely under control.”

“Yes, well, all the same, we’d like to take some further precautions.”

He gave Denny two folded sheets from his inside breast pocket. Each one had a simple map printed on it, with a handwritten name and address beneath, and a single color photograph paper-clipped to the front.

“Hang on,” Denny said once he’d seen them. “We never discussed anything like this.”

“We never set any parameters at all,” Zachary said. “Isn’t that the whole point? I hope you’re not going to start quibbling now.”

“That’s not what I said,” Denny replied. “I just don’t like surprises, that’s all.”

Zachary’s laugh was less than convincing. “Oh, come on, ‘Denny.’ You’re the king of surprises, aren’t you? You’ve got all of Washington on tenterhooks.”

Zachary reached over the front seat and took a canvas pouch from the driver, then laid it on the padded armrest between them. This was a pay-as-you-go contract, and Denny’s price, as always, had been nonnegotiable.

Inside the pouch were six unnumbered ten-ounce gold ingots, each with a minimum millesimal fineness of 999. Nothing was more portable, and the fact that the gold was hard to come by only helped Denny weed out the wrong kind of client.

Denny took a few minutes to memorize the next assignment. Then he handed the sheets back to Zachary and picked up the pouch. Once he’d wrapped the goods in an old Safeway bag from his jacket pocket, he opened the car door to go.

“One other thing,” Zachary told him as he started to get out. “It’s a little close in here. You might think about a shower next time.”

Denny closed the door behind him and walked away, back into the night.

I clean up just fine, he said to himself, but you’ll always be a lackey asshole.

Chapter 47

THE DOORBELL RANG in the middle of our dinner the next day. Usually it was the phone, and was almost always one of Jannie’s girlfriends. And she wondered why I didn’t want to get her a cell phone.

“I’ll get it!” she chirped, and jumped right up from the table.

“Five dollars says it’s Terry Ann,” I said.

Bree put her money down on the table. “I’m going with Alexis.”

Whoever it was had obviously been cleared by Rakeem.

But almost right away, Jannie was back. Her face looked totally blank, almost shell-shocked.

And then Christine Johnson walked into my kitchen.

“Mommy!” Ali knocked over his chair getting out of it. Then he ran over to be scooped up in his mother’s arms.

“Look at you! Look at you!”

Christine hugged him tight and smiled at the rest of us over his shoulder — that brilliant smile I remembered so well, the one that said all was right with the world, even when it wasn’t even close to that.